Thomas Campbell

“ Ye stars, that measure life to man,
⁠Why seem your courses quicker?
When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
⁠And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of death,
⁠Feel we its tide more rapid? ”

“ OUR bugles sang truce—for the night-cloud had lower'd,
⁠And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,
⁠The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
⁠By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain ”

“ THE more we live, more brief appear
⁠Our life's succeeding stages:
A day to childhood seems a year,
⁠And years like passing ages. ”